Forgive and Forget
by X-Hayze-chan-X
Summary: Keep your face to the sunshine and you can never see the shadow" - Hellen Keller.' Poland/Hungary friendship-turned-romance. Set in WWII, ends well after WWII. Mah newest fail. T for... Well, you know the drill.


**A/N: Wow. This turned out way different than I had planned. And it ended up as 1,292 words. **

**I have never written het before, except when I wrote those fanfics with the MCR guys and random OC's. **

**Okay, so originally I was thinking of the Hungarians who died in the Holocaust, including my family. It kept eating away at me until I finally decided to write something about it. **

**Then I remembered that, aside from Jews, the Polish got the worst treatment. I read it somewhere. So I knew that I had to add Poland. **

**I don't really know what happened after that. I was gonna make it just mention him, but it ended up with him virtually taking over half the fic. So I thought, Okay, I'll do friendship. Then I had them kiss and I thought, Oh, awkward moment. But by then I just couldn't deny it. And I added the Poland/Hungary. **

**I don't think I've ever seen this pairing, tbqh. I like it now, though, so someone better start writing it. **

**And, of course, some Austria/Switzerland(implied) because they need WAY more love, people! **

**DISCLAIMER: Me no own APH or its various nouns. **

**WARNING: This is really angsty and fucked up. It's also a yaoi writer's attempt at het. Be warned. Also it's got YAOI and swearz. I R AWESOME. RAWR. It's much different than something I'd normally write. But it's (mostly) historically accurate. Aside from the Poland/Hungary. But you gotta admit, it'd make sense for them to make the connection. Right? Anyway, READ MAH FAIL NAO. **

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**Author's notes/quote  
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**Declarations of LOVE! **__**

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She can forgive, but she will never forget. Nobody could forget.

Poland, it seems, got the worst of it. He has since rebuilt, and let go of the past.

But, like her, he can never forget.

She remembers the screams of people being ripped from their homes and thrown into trucks, or dragged off on foot. She remembers them all being led to their doom. Some were shot, some gassed, some tortured, frozen, beaten… Some lived, but the suffering; the sheer, undeniable suffering and madness they went through made them wonder if it were really worth it. So many Hungarians had seen their doom in Auschwitz.

He remembers the same. But mostly, he remembers the ghettos. The most infamous ghetto was his beloved capital, Warsaw. The scar on his chest will always remind him. He remembers the people starving, freezing, dying. He remembers how those horrible, Godforsaken camps were built right in his own backyard, just for his people to suffer. As if they hadn't already suffered enough. Women, children, the elderly… no one was spared from the wrath of the madman.

She wondered how a man that came from her beloved _Austria_ could do this to her. To the world.

He wished that Germany could see the fact that he was hurting everyone. His friends, his family, the world.

The two of them tried so desperately to stay alive, to put an end to the madness. They put on copious amounts of makeup to hide the bruises that the Nazi soldiers' boots had given them, from head to toe. They smiled and kept good relations with all that they could.

Because really, it was no one's fault but that man's. That hideous demon.

Later, it would be said that one of France's men, Nostradamus, had predicted that man as an Anti-Christ.

But the two of them knew him to be the devil himself.

Hungary and Poland knew that the three Axis boys had no idea what their governments had gotten them into. They were only trying to help their people, to do what they were told. They never knew that they were hurting those they cared about. They never knew they were hurting themselves.

Why, they both wondered, were these things happening to them?

He was told that, as far as nationalities went, Poles were the worst. He was told that he didn't matter.

She heard that Poland was a monster. That his people were as bad as the Jews, which, she heard, were the worst.

They both knew this wasn't true. None of it was true. They were fed lies and forced to take this bullshit lying down.

They remember the bodies. Buried in mass graves, piled on top of each other, bloody and bedraggled, burned, fed to inmates, used for soap. The bodies looked like skeletons even when they were alive. Even before they died, their eyes were cold, lifeless. In life, they were nothing more than animated corpses.

And then they were put to rest.

They both wince when they remember the screams. They can still hear them. They smell the burning flesh. They hear the cries of children. If they could turn back time… Oh, if only.

You never get a good idea of things unless you were really there.

They both knew what it felt like to be killed time and time again in the most horrible, gruesome ways possible. They knew what it felt like to be kicked in the face just for being who you are.

And then came the bombs.

Oh God, they were terrible. Each one left a mark on their skin, which was nothing new. Even the ones they couldn't feel, they could hear. The ones that made them cringe when they thought of what poor country must be feeling this now.

Atomic bombs should have never been invented.

They had both experienced the same things in different ways. They were different genders, had different customs, spoke different languages, ate different things… But in their experiences and knowledge, they found something that they needed more than anything else during that terrible dark time.

They found a friend. A kindred spirit to guide them through the horrors, to share the pain, to remind each other that everything wasn't alright, but if they had faith then it would be.

Though their people were dying, though suffering was at its peak, they had something to keep going for. The spark of hope was back in their eyes.

There was no doubt in either of their minds that others were suffering, too. Everyone was. But somehow, the two had found each other. Over everyone else, they had found each other and nobody else was there but the two of them.

When they heard that the war might end soon, they were so glad, they kissed.

It was awkward, to say the least.

Through it all they only had each other to keep them company through the sleepless nights. Though they weren't geographically close, they could still sneak over to the other, when the watchful enemy was distracted. They could meet.

Through the war, they had become close.

But this close?

The war ended, and they avoided each other like the plague. She went off with Austira, him with Lithuania.

But soon, they had to face facts and own up to kissing each other.

When Lithuania asked him, for the three-thousand-seven-hundred-and-sixty-third-time why he and Hungary were avoiding each other, he finally answered.

When Austria finally got tired of his ex-wife barging in all the time, taking pictures of him and Switzerland but without the familiar animal grin, and he demanded why she was bothering _him_ when she had become so close to Poland in the past few years, she had to face facts.

_We kissed, and it wouldn't be, like, that big a deal, but… I figured something out. _

_I just… We were so happy that the war was finally over… And then we kissed… and I realized… _

_**I love her. **_

_**I love him. **_

And just like that, the two thanked their friends and wished that they hadn't avoided the other. It would be impossible to repair their relationships now.

A week later, they met in the market.

They stood there, mouths agape, until they simultaneously apologized, then blushed. He invited her to lunch, and she accepted.

And somehow, it all came bursting out.

_I'm sorry that I kissed you; I was so caught up in the moment. But about a week ago, when Austria asked me why I didn't go bother you instead… I came to terms with the fact that…_

_Listen, I'm like, totally sorry about the kiss. I totally didn't mean it at the time. But when Liet asked me why you and I were, like, avoiding each other, I realized… _

_**I love you.**_

Neither heard the other's frantic apology, being too caught up in their own. Both their words ran together, and they were speaking their own languages.

But the three final words they uttered in the language of the other: Him in Hungarian and her in Polish, and they heard.

And the two dropped everything and came together. He wrapped his arms around her hips as she wrapped hers around his neck, and their lips met for a second time. But this was no accident and neither was sorry or in denial or ashamed. And they finally pulled apart and smiled.

Because they were right.

The two of them had kept going, and now the war was over, they were rebuilding, and everything was okay.

They were still together, but in a better way than either would have ever dared to dream.

It was love.

**Keep your face to the sunshine and you can never see the shadow. **

– **Helen Keller**


End file.
